


i wanna be enough for you;

by kinneyb



Series: first times [13]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22365223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: “Do you think I give a fuck about your being human?”Jaskier shrugged sharply. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.“I don’t,” he said firmly. “Well, not in the ways you’re imagining.”/Jaskier wishes he wasn't human; maybe then he finally wouldn't be a burden. Chaos ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: first times [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579837
Comments: 37
Kudos: 2096





	i wanna be enough for you;

**Author's Note:**

> i rly wanted to do smth exploring jaskier's insecurities so! here we are  
> follow me on twitter @ queermight

Jaskier was the human and in a lot of ways the useless one, and he knew that. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew he wasn’t like Geralt, the strong and brave witcher, or Yennefer, the powerful, beautiful sorceress or even little Cirilla, who had more power in her pinkie finger than all of Jaskier.

Normally, he wasn’t bothered by it.

He was content watching from the sidelines, propped on a rock and idly strumming his lute, as Yennefer and Geralt trained Cirilla.

Cirilla hadn’t improved much but they were, at least, getting a better feel of her potential. She was strong, unexpectedly so. When she got too worked up or upset (usually from her lack of improvement), she’d huffed and stomp her foot and the ground would shake underneath all of their feet for just a second before she grounded herself again.

She was getting better at that, too.

Geralt sighed heavily and placed a hand on Cirilla’s shoulder. “Time for a break,” he said, ignoring her pout as he walked over and plopped down beside Jaskier.

Yennefer walked over with Cirilla, sitting with her.

Jaskier hummed softly, shoving his lute down between his legs, entirely focused on the witcher. “So,” he said.

“So.”

Jaskier smiled, just a hint. “She’s doing better at stopping her outbursts, at least,” he said. “That’s good, right?”

Geralt looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “It is,” he agreed finally. “But I was hoping for…” he trailed off with a sigh. “I don’t want her thinking I’m impatient - ”

“Geralt, the mighty witcher, impatient?” he gasped. “ _Never_.”

He elbowed Jaskier in the side. “I’m just… worried,” he said slowly. “I want her to be able to protect herself.”

Jaskier smiled softly, feeling warm and fuzzy. He leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder. “It’s fucked up, you know,” he said. Geralt looked down at him, peering into his eyes. “Sometimes, you’re more human than the actual humans I’ve had the displeasure of knowing and yet they have the gall to call _you_ a monster.”

He caught the way Geralt almost smiled, just a twitch of his lips.

“Jaskier.”

He startled and looked up into the face of Yennefer, perfectly calm. “Can we talk?” she asked, pointedly ignoring Geralt. Jaskier blinked once, and she added, “just for a second.”

Jaskier had no hard feelings toward Yennefer, not after everything, so he nodded and stood up. Geralt grabbed his hand, surprising him, and squeezed once before letting go.

His heart felt like it was on fire, beating too fast, as he walked a few feet away with Yennefer. She looked over his shoulder and tsked, grabbing his arm and dragging him further away.

“Wh - ?” he asked.

“His hearing is better than the average human,” she explained plainly. Jaskier knew that, of course, it was just never something he cared about. He rarely hid anything from Geralt. “So,” she said after a moment, eyeing him. “What’s going on?”

Jaskier blinked a few times. “Umm, well.” He shifted, jutting a hip out. “We’re helping a young girl learn how to control her powers before she kills all of us, the whole world, and possibly herself.”

Yennefer stared at him. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Do I?” he replied quickly. “I don’t know what you’re asking, Yennefer.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I mean, how…” she paused and started again, almost sounding unsure of herself, which was wildly uncharacteristic for her. “How are things going between you and wolfie?”

“Okay,” Jaskier said. “Firstly, _please_ call him that to his face. I am begging. Secondly, - good? I mean, as good as ever.”

Yennefer hmmed, folding her arms over her chest. “Have you two… talked about anything?” she prompted. “Have you demanded - ”

“Listen,” he interrupted. “We’ve made improvements. Maybe we’re not perfect yet, but I’m okay with that. I’m…” Jaskier smiled, soft, biting his bottom lip. “I’m happy and I think he is, too, and right now that’s all we need.”

Yennefer stared at him for a few beats, unnerving, before she nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated with a sigh. Then, because he couldn’t help it, he had to ask, “are you doing okay?” Yennefer looked surprised by the question, and he continued, “I just - I know you basically gave me your blessing - thanks, by the way - but is it still weird, seeing us… _together_?”

She shrugged sharply. “It’s unexpected,” she answered, “but I’m okay.”

Jaskier didn’t look convinced, didn’t feel convinced.

“Gods,” she sighed heavily. “Do you really think a man, a singular man, could ever have the power to make me a sobbing mess? I am fine, Jaskier, but.” Yennefer smiled, flashing the barest hint of teeth. “I do appreciate the thought, truly.”

Jaskier smiled back tentatively. “Okay. I’m glad,” he said, meaning it.

“We’re starting again!” Geralt called, interrupting their conversation.

Jaskier turned and saw Geralt standing in the middle of the field with Cirilla by his side. He turned back and smiled again, a little wider.

“Guess the powerful never get to rest,” he remarked.

Yennefer smirked. “Who would want it?” she replied, walking by him. “Rest is _boring_.”

Jaskier stood there for a second longer, something churning in the pit of his stomach. It was an uncomfortable, new feeling and he didn’t know what to do with it. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

“Jaskier?” It was Geralt, sounding mildly worried. “Are you okay?”

He smiled tightly. “I’m always okay,” he replied. “I’ll just - go back over there,” he said, jutting his thumb in the direction of the rocks.

After they finished training, they all went back to the inn. Yennefer had a bath drawn and Cirilla was waiting for her turn when Geralt suggested something to Jaskier:

“How about we wash off… in _other_ ways?”

Jaskier blinked at him.

“I saw a stream the other day, just on the outskirts of town,” he explained.

Jaskier smiled then and the sour feeling from earlier melted away completely. Geralt had a way of doing that. He nodded and grabbed his stuff, walking with Geralt out of the inn and to the edge of the trees.

The stream was beautiful, clear as day. Jaskier dropped his stuff and walked over.

“Come on,” Geralt said gruffly, removing his clothes. When Jaskier looked over again, he was already in the water, covered from the waist down. It was a beautiful sight - the witcher with his scarred, olive skin and striking white hair against the backdrop of greenery and blue, running water.

Jaskier smiled, biting the inside of his cheek, and worked off his clothes. He folded them neatly on a rock and walked over, dipping his foot in the water and -

“ _Fuck!_ ” he exclaimed, jumping back with a shudder. “That’s - what the fuck.”

Geralt furrowed his brows and moved closer to the edge of the stream. “What is it?” he asked. “Jaskier?”

He smiled tightly and shrugged sharply. He was covered in goosebumps. “Just… very cold,” he explained, rubbing his arms. “I - I didn’t expect that, is all, considering you… well, jumped right in.”

Geralt smirked. “My body doesn’t really respond much to cold or hot,” he explained. “Come on,” he opened his arms. “I’ll warm you up.”

Jaskier pursed his lips, almost smiling, as he nodded and stepped into the water with a shiver. Geralt pulled him close, pressing their bodies together, and he did admittedly feel a little warmer.

“Hi,” he whispered.

Geralt rolled his eyes, entirely fond, as he kissed his nose. “Hi.”

Jaskier hmmed, content, and returned the favor, kissing Geralt’s jaw. His stubble was rough against his lips, but he liked it. He liked it a lot. “We - we should, uh… clean ourselves,” he mumbled, not convincing at all.

“We should,” he agreed, slipping his hands down Jaskier’s back. He cupped his ass in his hands, squeezing lightly.

Jaskier let out a laugh, high pitched and breathy. “You’re the worst,” he said, pressing forward, their wet cocks sliding together under the water. “Do you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he replied lowly, “mostly by you.”

Jaskier grinned and leaned in, kissing him, slow and deep. Geralt hmmed against his lips, obviously content, and Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. He was happy, so happy it was almost scary.

Cirilla was waiting for them when they returned from the stream, hood pulled up over her head. “Hey,” she said. “Um. I’m - well, I don’t - ”

She still had trouble asking for what she wanted, but Geralt was getting better at reading her, too. He stepped forward and patted the top of her cloak-covered head. “Hungry?”

She nodded once quickly. Jaskier smiled. At least there were a few things all of them still had in common, like hunger.

“Come on,” Geralt said, pulling her away from the door.

Jaskier hesitated for just a second. “What about - ” Thankfully, the door opened and Yennefer stepped out. He noticed she was wearing a coat and wondered idly if she could feel the cold, too.

All together, they walked to the town’s local (and only) tavern. Geralt and Yennefer both kept a protective hand on Cirilla’s shoulders.

Jaskier snatched them a table near the back and once they were all seated they began ordering. Jaskier knew money was no problem, for once, not with Yennefer’s help.

He still wondered how she always had so much money. Sorceress secrets, perhaps.

But when the waitress, a younger woman, looked at him, he realized he wasn’t hungry. So he just smiled. “Just a beer.”

She nodded and walked off. Geralt turned and looked at him oddly.

“You’re always hungry,” he said, not unkindly.

Jaskier had to admit he had a point. He usually never turned down food, especially when he wasn’t paying. But his stomach felt a little odd, and food just didn’t sound pleasant. “Just not feeling it,” he said.

“Well,” Yennefer drawled, “buy all the beer you want, then.”

He smiled lightly. He knew that was Yennefer’s way of showing she cared. “Thank you,” he said.

The food arrived and at least the smell didn’t bother him. He sat back and sipped on his beer. He liked watching Geralt eat, which was possibly weird but who cared?

Life was short, do what pleases you.

Mostly he just liked seeing how pleased and content Geralt looked when he was eating. Cirilla showed her royalty during meals, proper and prim. Yennefer was a mix of both.

Jaskier hmmed and leaned back, dozing off slowly.

“Hey. Jaskier, _hey_.”

He opened his eyes and immediately closed them again. “G - Geralt,” he said, reaching out for him blindly. “I - what the _fuck_.”

Geralt grabbed his hand, squeezing. “Jaskier?” he asked with concern. “Is something wrong?”

“I just - my head - ” he stammered. There was a pain in his head, extending down behind his nose. “Wh - where’s the others?”

Geralt stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. “Went back to the inn,” he explained. “Come on, stand up.”

Jaskier stood up with his help, a little shaky on his legs. He leaned heavily against Geralt’s side, teeth chattering. Geralt wrapped an arm around his shoulders and led him out of the tavern. He shivered from the cold and Geralt tugged him closer.

“Come on,” he said gruffly.

Reaching the inn, Geralt helped him to their room and opened the door.

Walking over, he sat Jaskier on the bed and crouched down, hands on his thighs as he peered up at him. “Hey, hey,” he said and Jaskier slowly opened his eyes, just a slit. “What do you think is going on?”

“I - I don’t - I don’t know,” he said. He turned his head away and sneezed. And… “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he groaned loudly and Geralt squeezed his thighs.

“What?” he asked quickly. “What is it?”

Jaskier looked down at him and almost laughed, except he was too miserable for that. “I think… I have a cold,” he said. “Fuck.”

Geralt blinked once. “Oh,” he breathed after a beat. “That’s - that’s good, right?” he said before cringing. “I mean, it’s not - ”

He cupped Geralt’s face. “I know what you mean,” he assured him. “I’m okay.”

Geralt nodded, relaxing a bit. He leaned up and - Jaskier promptly smacked his face away.

“Nope,” he said. “No kissing. I could get you - ”

Geralt slammed their lips together, cutting him off, and kissed him deeply, licking into his mouth. Jaskier moaned, pleased, before he pushed him away.

“ _Hey!_ ” he exclaimed with a pout, crossing his arms.

Geralt smirked. “I can’t catch your common human ailments, Jaskier,” he said.

“Oh,” he said. “Right.”

Geralt darkened the room, blowing out all the candles and drawing the blinds on the window, before he walked over and joined Jaskier in the - _their_ \- bed. Jaskier thought he was lucky, having a partner who couldn’t get sick, who had no qualms about holding him in his arms, nosing at his hair.

Sighing, he laid his head on Geralt’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

He couldn’t sleep, though, because his nose was pouring like a fountain. He whined, and Geralt simply huffed, almost a laugh, as he brushed Jaskier’s hair out of his face.

“Here,” he said, reaching over and grabbing something out of his bag.

Jaskier vaguely realized it was one of Geralt’s undershirts. “Absolutely not,” he said. “Gross.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll wash it. Come on.”

Pouting, he sighed and accepted the shirt, wiping his face with it. He settled back down after that. Geralt dozed off not long after, and Jaskier peered up at him. He could barely see the general shape of his face through the moonlight filtering in through the window, blinds be damned.

Reaching up, he gently traced the sharp cut of Geralt’s jaw with his fingers.

Geralt and Yennefer and Cirilla. All strong, able to do amazing things, and here he was, sick with a common cold. Like a fucking - “a fucking burden,” he mumbled, feeling something hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach.

Jaskier closed his eyes, tight, and prayed for sleep.

He was feeling only slightly better in the morning. Geralt brushed his hair out of his face. “I’ll grab you something to eat,” he said, ignoring Jaskier’s protests. “You need it, even if you don’t feel like eating.”

Pouting, Jaskier knew he was right and watched as he left the room.

He leaned back against the headboard and chewed on his bottom lip.

There was a knock at the door and he sat up. “Come in?” he said, almost a question. He knew it wasn’t Geralt because he had no reason to knock.

The door opened and Cirilla poked her head in. He smiled softly.

“Hey,” she said, walking in. “Um. Geralt said you were sick.”

Jaskier couldn’t tell if he was upset with Geralt or not. He didn’t want Cirilla and Yennefer pitying him, thinking less of him.

“Yeah,” he admitted finally. “But I’m feeling better already.”

Cirilla nodded. “Okay, I just - I wanted to check,” she said, rubbing her hands together. She paused for a second before grabbing a blanket from the dresser near the door and shuffling over. “Here.”

Jaskier watched, silently, as she tucked him in. It was almost comical.

“I thought you were the child,” he said with a hint of amusement.

Cirilla shrugged and stepped back. “Do you need anything else?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’m okay.” Cirilla nodded and turned away, approaching the door. “Um!” he said, and she looked back at him. “Thank you, Cirilla,” he said, smiling, meaning it.

She smiled back. “You would do the same,” she said without a doubt. “Feel better.”

Geralt returned a few moments later with a bowl of soup. Jaskier pouted, childishly, as Geralt sat on the bed and lifted the spoon to his mouth, waiting patiently.

“I can feed myself,” he said.

Geralt smirked. “But where’s the fun in that?” he replied. “Open.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes but opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful of warm soup. He wasn’t hungry, not really, but the warmth was still comforting. He accepted a few more spoonfuls before deciding he was full.

Geralt looked unconvinced but nodded and placed the bowl down, anyway.

“I should - ” Geralt started, but stopped abruptly when he noticed - “Jaskier,” he said, worried again. “Are you _crying?_ ”

Jaskier blinked once and reached up and sure enough his cheeks were wet with tears. He felt like an idiot and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m - I’m not - I - ”

Geralt grabbed his hands. “Are you in that much pain?” he asked. “Yen might be able to help,” he said. “Do you want me to - ”

“I’m not in pain,” he interrupted and suddenly it was all pouring out, every bad emotion that’d been eating him up for days, possibly even weeks, months, but he’d always buried down and ignored. “Geralt, I’m a fucking - I’m fucking _useless_. I’m nothing more than a _burden_ , a - a - ”

Geralt squeezed his hands. “Jaskier, what are you talking about?”

He stared into Geralt’s face, calm as ever. For some reason he didn’t find it comforting. Not right now. “You and Yennefer and Cirilla, you’re all so - so fucking _special_. You can do things. You can take care of yourself. _Fuck_ ,” he cursed loudly and ripped his hands away, tucking them against his chest, nearly curling into a ball. “Even Roach is more helpful than I am.”

Geralt stared back at him, frowning. “Jaskier, that’s normal. You’re human.”

“And - and that’s the problem, _isn’t_ it?” he shot back, on the edge of hysterical. “I’m fucking _human_. And gods, I wish I wasn’t. I - I wish I was - I wish I was someone - something - worthy of _you_.”

Geralt’s frown deepened. Jaskier could barely see through the tears pooling in his eyes. “Hey, stop crying,” he said gruffly and reached out, wrapping his arms around him. Jaskier sniffed and buried his face in Geralt’s shoulder. “Shh, calm down,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

Jaskier took a few deep breathes, like instructed, but the tears didn’t stop. “You - you deserve _better_ ,” he said, muffled against his shoulder. “You deserve someone powerful and - and beautiful and - ”

“You mean,” Geralt said, slow, “someone like Yennefer?”

Jaskier was silent.

“Okay,” Geralt said with a sigh. “Come on, look at me.”

Jaskier sniffled, loud and pathetic, as he pulled back and looked at Geralt.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Jaskier blinked, not expecting that. “What?” he asked, small.

Geralt reached up and thumbed away a few of his tears. “I never… considered how you might be feeling, and I’m sorry for not realizing you were hurting.” He cupped the side of his cheek. “But Jaskier, you know me. Do you really think I’d entertain what we have between us if I didn’t _want_ to? If I didn’t want _you?_ ”

He had a point. Jaskier sniffed. “No,” he answered quietly.

“Mhmm,” he replied, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. “Do you think I give a fuck about your being human?”

Jaskier shrugged sharply. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“I don’t,” he said firmly. “Well, not in the ways you’re imagining,” he said and pulled back again. Geralt ran his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, knotted from sleep. “I’m terrified that one day you will die, because that is what humans do. They die, much too soon.”

Jaskier stared at him, tears drying on his cheeks.

“But you being human has never made me think you were worth any less than me, or Yennefer, or even any of the monsters I slay. What you are, where you come from, means fuck all. What matters is _who_ you are, and you, Jaskier, continue to be one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, magical or otherwise.”

Jaskier laughed, a little broken. “Hardly.”

“You are,” he said. “You know your own weaknesses, you know you don’t have the power of me or Yennefer or Cirilla, even, but that never stops you from doing what you want. That is bravery.”

Jaskier looked away. “I thought that was just stupidity,” he mumbled.

“Well,” Geralt said with just a hint of amusement. “It’s a bit of both.”

Jaskier smiled, then, biting the inside of his cheek. “You always know just what to say,” he said, light and teasing. He took a deep breath and reached up, again, to wipe his cheeks. “Um. Thank you, Geralt. Gods, that was - that was so embarrassing.”

“Hmm,” he said. “Your secret is safe with me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if u enjoy my fics please check out:  
> korrmin.tumblr.com/writing


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